


Story Time with Castiel

by pherryt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist!Dean, Author!Castiel, Childhood Memories, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Sfb, artist!castiel, forgotten tv shows, not really a big part of the story though, past character death mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Dean Winchester has some happy memories of a forgotten TV show which was, ultimately, his inspiration for becoming an artist. He's tried to find it so that he could share it with his own young daughter but hasn't been successful. it's like nobody even remembers what he's talking about.
He's given up hope of finding it when he stumbles across the answer completely by accident and meets one Castiel Novak who winds up being more than just an answer...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boopedbyanangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boopedbyanangel/gifts).



> I was planning on writing this anyway (as a one shot) and then a friend needed a pick me up - I hope this works for you!
> 
> Art planned but i don't know when it will get done. I wanted to get this posted ASAP for _reasons_

Dean Winchester skidded to a halt and stared at the display window of the local mom and pop bookstore. He'd been inside – well, not often, but often enough – and that was new. Very new. He couldn't stop staring. He _recognized_ that art. It had been maybe two decades since he'd last seen it, but he remembered it clear as day. It had always held a special place in his heart, being among the last of the happy memories he'd had of his mother. Running home from school, Sammy in tow, to get home in time to watch a show he'd never known the name of, or if he had, he'd long since forgotten.

He'd breeze through the front door as the intro of the show ended and dump his backpack in the entryway, leaping over the arm of the couch (carefully, always carefully) to cuddle with his mother – Sammy following more sedately to crowd in on her other side – as the deep gravelly voice narrated the art that was being created on the screen.

Dean would watch in fascination as the hands – the only part of the artist you saw, and Dean had also assumed, of the narrator- swept across the page, pieces of colored chalk creating movement and flow as the camera panned across it. Sometimes zooming out or in, or flashing back to an already finished section as it became relevant to the story again.

It had been Dean's inspiration, a dream of the future that his mother had encouraged. After she'd passed away to cancer, he'd decided there was no better way to honor her memory than to prove her faith in him correct. Now he had Emma, and he wanted to share this special thing from his youth but he'd hit a bit of a snag.

Nobody had ever heard of it.

And it proved impossible – for him at least - to Google something he couldn't even remember the name of. Yet here it was now, out of the blue, sitting innocently in a display window, as if it wasn't about to turn his entire life upside down. The pictures were of different subjects, the techniques more refined but he could swear he'd know that style anywhere. It had to be what he was looking for. He was sure of it.

He couldn't help but gape before he finally shook his head to clear it and detoured into the store and ran smack into a crowd. He frowned. It was a small bookstore and as infrequently as he visited it, he was absolutely positive that it wasn't normally as busy as this.

"Excuse me," Dean snagged the arm of a passing woman with a name tag. He thought she was a new hire as he didn't recognize her. No matter, this was perfect. She would be most likely to know what he wanted. "What's going on?"

"Oh, well hello there! We're having an author meet and greet, along with a little show, followed by autographs. Are you interested?"

"I…what? No, well, um, who's the author?" he couldn't help but ask even though it had nothing to do with why he was inside. Sue him, he was a little curious.

"Castiel Novak. We're very lucky to have him. In fact, he just moved into the area."

"Oh, no, sorry, never heard of him. I actually came in about something else."

"Oh, well then, how can I help you?" her face had held a flash of disappointment for a second before she put on another cheery smile.

"Well, see, the artwork in the window – do you know who did that? I've been trying to figure it out since I was a kid."

The woman gaped at him and Dean fidgeted uneasily. Was it weird to ask something like that? He hadn't thought so. Then she started to giggle, her red hair bouncing as she reached up to cover her mouth in an effort to smother them. It didn't work and Dean started to turn red in embarrassment. He shifted back a couple of inches, wondering if he should just leave, but no, he  _needed_  to know.

"Look, uh," he took a closer look at her name tag, "Charlie, I'm sorry if it's a weird question, but I used to watch this show with my mom when I was a kid, before she died, and I could swear that's the same art work! I wanted to share it with my daughter, but I can't find it and I can't remember the name of the show."

Her eyes simultaneously went wide even as they softened, and she finally managed to calm herself. "Oh…" Charlie said softly. "Oh no! It's not weird at all! It's just that, you're in luck!" she gave him a small punch on the arm and he was so surprised, he didn't even react. She continued without even seeming to realize what she'd done. "See, it's funny, because it's an awful coincidence that the artist is here, today, right this very moment in fact."

Dean's eyes lit up. "He is?" She nodded.

"Yes, and his name is…" She paused dramatically, "Castiel Novak! So are you interested in sticking around now?"

"He's here? Right  _now_?" Dean breathed out incredulously, still trying to process her words. "Seriously?" Dean couldn't believe his ears. How lucky was he right now? Was he _interested?_ Of  _course_  he was interested. Only one problem… "When does it all start? I gotta pick up my kid." He glanced down at his watch. "Do I have to um…buy a ticket or anything?" he looked back out at the crowd.

Charlie looked behind him for a moment and grinned before looking back at him. "Nope. No ticket. You go get your daughter and we'll save a space for you right up front. Just make sure you're back by one o'clock! That's when all the fun starts!" Dean breathed out in relief and gave her a brilliant smile.

"Thanks Charlie! You're the best. I'll be back, you can count on it." Dean quickly ducked around the filling store and out the door, never noticing the dark haired man who'd watched the exchange, or who was now approaching Charlie to talk to her.

Instead, Dean took long strides down the sidewalk to reach the café faster. He had 45 minutes to eat lunch with his brother and Emma and then get them back to the bookstore in time. He wasn't missing this for the world.

 

*****

 

One o'clock on the dot found the dirty blond man in the leather jacket sitting in the front row, with a small child curled up in his lap. Castiel had never caught his name, and neither had his assistant Charlie. He'd had his doubts about what he was doing, but listening to the man this afternoon had done something to him. Seeing him now, the rapt attention of both father and daughter, made something uncurl inside of Castiel he'd thought lost a long time ago.

"I told you weren't making a mistake coming out of your self-imposed hermitage."

"Charlie, I don’t think that’s very accurate a turn of phrase."

"Pfft, I don't care. Look, I know you've had some tough times in your life, some struggles after the show ended, but if you ever needed proof that what you do actually touches lives…" She swept a hand out towards the audience, though he knew that she meant specifically the man who'd been so happy to find out his search was over. "You're not a sellout, Cas, then or now. Or any of those other things they used to say about you. All that matters in the end is if what you do touches somebody, because if it means something to even one person, isn't it worth it? Now, are you ready to rock?"

Castiel nodded at her with a grateful smile and he stepped forward after she introduced him and started the first story. It was one of his favorites, a classic retelling of Rapunzel. He sat down at his pad and easel and picked up the first color. Quickly losing himself in the art and the story, he recited every word from memory, pictures blooming with the deliberately limited selection of colors he'd picked. Black, dark brown, bright yellow, some orange and some flesh tones.

Before he knew it, he was finished, chalk covering his hands, arms and face, while the bookstore erupted into a combination of polite and enthusiastic clapping. He turned on the swivel stool to face them, picking up a cloth and wiping off his fingers.  His nervousness had melted away. It was time to take questions.

*****

Dean couldn't believe his eyes,  _or_ his ears.  The guy was young. Really young. Dark hair – because of the lighting Dean was unsure if it was black or just a deep, rich brown – brilliantly blue eyes, scruffy face (Dean may or may not have a thing for scruff.) and all in all, just, gorgeous. And the man couldn't be all that much older than Dean.  It couldn't be the same guy.

But when he began to speak there was no longer any doubt. His voice had grown deeper with age, but it was the same gravelly one Dean had listened to all those years ago, with the same hypnotizing cadence and tones that had pulled him in when he was only twelve.

And as the art flowed from the man's fingertips, swift and sure despite the audience – the one thing Dean could never do – Dean became just as enthralled as he had back then. His daughter stared in awe too. She leaned up in his lap and tugged at his face to whisper in her father's ear, trying not to take her eyes off the artist at work.

"He draws pictures like you daddy. They're beee-oootiful." Her voice, despite her attempts to be hushed, were loud enough to be heard by the people around them who flashed the child an indulgent smile, though one or two tried to shush her.  Dean ignored them. He knew Emma was a well behaved child; she wasn't going to talk through the entire event. Bedtime, however, was a different story. He might have an issue getting her to go to bed tonight if she became too excited.

It was worth it.

The man, Castiel, finally stopped and turned. He grabbed a rag and used it to wipe his hands and face – he missed a few spots and Dean kept finding his eyes drawn to the bits of chalk hovering on his cheekbones and his forehead whenever he tried to force himself to stop staring at his eyes – and started taking questions.

"Mr. Novak, didn't you used to have a TV show?" a woman from the back called out.

"I did but that was a long time ago. It was only on for a short time and I'm surprised anyone remembers it." The artist nodded, a flash of something Dean couldn't catch slipping away from his face. There were murmurs from around him and then a couple of people mentioned that they remembered the show. Their tones were fond and Dean found himself grinning before raising his own hand, much to his surprise.

"You must have been a kid when you did that show." It wasn't a question, more of a statement. Blue eyes turned to him and he felt a jolt when their eyes actually met for the first time. God, he didn't even know the man and he was already gone.

"I practically was. I wasn't even halfway through college when I was scouted.  It led to some…resentment among a few of my peers." From the controlled look on his face, Dean guessed it was more than a few, and more than mere resentment. He wondered if that was why the show disappeared as fast and thoroughly as it seemed to. Maybe it hadn't been his own failure to look that had led him to never finding anything about it?

The question and answer session went on for about an hour before the redhead he'd first talked to, Charlie, came back to the front and clapped her hands together.

"Okay people! There's a lot more of you today than we expected, so if we're going to get everyone's autographs done before the store closes, we'll have to start now. Please line up in an orderly fashion and we'll get this show on the road!" She grinned at them all as other store employees bustled up to start picking up chairs and forming a line. Dean realized, in that moment, that he didn't have anything to sign and damn if he was finally going to find this guy and  _not_  get his autograph.

Besides, if the look Emma was throwing him was any indication, she was sure not ready to leave. He'd better go find something fast. He'll just have to suffer with being at the back of the line if it came right down to it. Thankfully, everything he would want was probably right here in this store.

 

*****

 

Charlie was nothing if not efficient. Of course she was much more than that. She was his agent, his confidant and his best friend. He didn't think he could have made it through the last few years without her. There was still something missing in his life, but he was in a much better place now, much happier. Without even realizing it, he found his mind dwelling once again on matching green eyes and freckles. He shook his head slightly to put his attention back on the woman in front of him as she set his book down and gushed at him.

He wondered what had happened to the man who'd come back. Had he left? He held back a sigh. This was the opposite of focusing on what was before him, he chided himself, and threw himself back into the one on ones and the autographs.

Charlie had been right, there  _were_ quite a bit more people than either of them had expected, and he was starting to tire. He'd been on edge before he got here as it was his first public appearance in ages. He finished chatting with the little boy and his mother as they stepped away and he looked up to find none other but the green eyed man stepping forward, urging his daughter closer. She held what was obviously a newly purchased book in her hands, while the man dangled a shopping bag full of even more books off his arm, as she looked up at Castiel, clutching the book to her chest.

"Go on honey." The man leaned down some to gently encourage his young daughter. With a shy smile she stepped closer and placed the book down on the table.

"You're a really good draw-er!" she said, "My daddy draws too! I'm gonna be a paintist when I grow up just like him." Castiel smiled wide at the bubbly words of the child and the proud look on her father's face.

"I'm sure you will be. It's a lot of fun and a lot of work at the same time. But I'm sure you have people who love you who can help you." She nodded and reached up for her father's hand. He took it and curled his fingers around hers. It was so sweet it made Castiel's heart ache.

"Yeah, so um, like Emma said, I'm an artist too, but I don't actually paint. She uh, doesn't know the difference yet."

"You work with ink, right?" Castiel asked after observing some black splotches along the man's fingers. The other man blinked in surprised.

"Yeah, uh, I do, but uh, how did you…oh!" he chuckled self-consciously, obviously just remembering the state of his fingers. Given that reaction, Castiel was certain that it was a normal state of affairs, long since relegated to being perfectly normal and therefore not much thought about.

"Well, it was either that, or engine grease." Castiel smiled again and the man's chuckle turned into a full body laugh.

"Oh, well, depending on the day, it could be both. My friend Benny likes to tell me I've struck oil. If only, then I'd be rich." Castiel liked the easygoing man, all trace of his nervousness suddenly gone as his daughter broke the ice.

"Daddy has a car." Emma leaned forward to whisper this loudly as if it was a big secret.

"Honey, most people do." Her father leaned down again with another indulgent smile. She looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded solemnly.

"But it's a  _special_  car! It was grandpa's car and now it's your car and then it'll be my car!"

"Sure thing, Emma." He ruffled her hair and she beamed at the two of them proudly.

"So how would you like me to address this?" Castiel reached forward for the book the little girl had placed on the table.

"Umm…I was thinking that one to Emma, one of these for me and another for my little brother." Dean looked down and started rummaging through the bag. Emma looked up with a frown.

"Uncle Sammy isn't little. He's bigger'n you!"

"I know."

"Did you want me to sign all of them?" The man looked up, startled at Castiel's words and his eyes searched the Castiels face. He huffed a laugh and shook his head before answering,

"Uh, dude, no. That'd be crazy.  You've been signing all day. We're good with this. I think I bought out the entire store." The freckled man chuckled. "To be honest, I had no idea you were here today. I didn't even know your name, but that TV show you did…it, it really meant something special to me and my brother. I guess I should tell you, you were my inspiration to become an artist, so really, it's all your fault." Castiel watched the other man turn a little red after his speech, chuckling a little sheepishly.

Castiel quickly finished signing the books; thankfully Dean - as he finally learned the man's name was - and his daughter were the last ones. The store closed up a few moments before and Charlie came over to bustle them out. Dean carefully slipped the three books into a separate bag and slung it from his elbow, the two bags knocking together so he could grab his daughters' hand. Before they could leave though, Castiel stopped them.

"Dean, I...if this sounds too forward, please forgive me. But I'm new in town and I don't really know anybody. This whole thing was Charlie's idea but um, I don't get to talk shop with other artists much either and I was hoping to...maybe get to know you better?"

Once again, Dean looked startled for a second and Castiel wondered if he'd been inappropriate, but then Dean smiled at him and gave him a nod. He let go of his daughters hand long enough to dig into his pocket and pull out a beat up business card and hand it to him. Castiel looked down at the card that simply read "Dean Winchester, Freelance Illustrator" with contact information listed beneath, and his eyes went wide and his head shot up to stare at him.

Dean Winchester was pretty famous. People had compared Castiel and Dean together for years, always in a way that disparaged Castiel's art. He'd always thought he'd hate the kind of man that engendered such spite, but Dean was nothing like that, and in fact, looked like he admired Castiel's work greatly.

Castiel wanted to get to know him even more now.

 

*****

 

Dean counted that day as the best day of his life. For that matter, Castiel did too. They'd gotten together the very next day, a lunch date just to talk. Dean invited him to his next gallery showing, rubbing at the back of his neck and mumbling that "you don’t have to go. It's not all that great anyway. Just some stuff I threw together."

Deans humbleness, and honest to goodness belief that his work was inferior to everyone else's when it was so, _so_ much more, both endeared and infuriated Castiel. But that was okay, he would devote the rest of his life to telling Dean how good he was – in so many ways – if that was what it took.

It hadn't taken long, a few months maybe, for the two of them to officially start dating. Castiel met the family and was flabbergasted in the contrasts to his own backstabbing relatives. This was what a family was supposed to be – and the oddest part was, not all of them were even actually blood related. But it worked. Soon after that, Castiel had confided in Dean of the reason the show had ended, why he had disappeared for so long and how hard it had been to try and put himself back out there.

And if Castiel had resolved to show Dean how good he was, how deserving of praise for his accomplishments, Dean was equally resolved to encourage Castiel and help him through his low points, and back him up when people unfairly pushed him and his work down. To help pick him up off the ground as Castiel started to believe the words again.

Two years after they got married, they did a joint project together.

It made a lot of people shut their mouths.

About damn time too, Charlie thought.

**Author's Note:**

> So, the basis of this story is pretty true - that is a tv show that I do remember. Most of what Dean says about it as a description is what i actually remember. Rapunzel is the story that sticks out in my mind though I know I watched others.I have occasionally tried to find it or find out about it and enlist help to do so, but have never succeeded.
> 
> And yes, this is YET ANOTHER Artist Fic but, well, two things about that: 
> 
> 1, as an artist, its something that i'm familiar with which helps me with framework for the stories. I imagine as I get more comfortable I'll expand further.
> 
> 2, for this story, it was really actually necessary. I promise that i don't plan on ALL my AU fics to have one or both of them as artists (though I suppose I should mention there is ONE more but I keep thinking of it as already written even though it's not out there yet).
> 
> Again, this was intended as a one shot, though i could easily see this story taking on a life of its own and becoming much bigger than this. Still, I already have a bunch of other BIG stories on my plate and I didn't want to take on another one. I hope that it doesn't end too choppily for all that?
> 
> Maybe later, if i have finished other bigger projects, i'll return to this and expand it out, if people are interested. Just, let me know, kay?


End file.
